


Seeds of Doubt (Grow Best in Silence)

by uena



Series: The Road to Hell (is Paved With Good Intentions) [20]
Category: The Tomorrow People (2013)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Doubt, Emotional Manipulation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger finally found out about John being a part of the Annex Program. He's not pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hope_calaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_calaris/gifts).



“John? Do you have a moment to spare? I’d like to talk to you.”

Under normal circumstances, John would have turned around the second after Roger said his name. As it is, the circumstances are not normal, and he has to take a moment, close his eyes and try to pull himself together, before he faces him.

He manages to smile at Roger, shake some of the nausea and exhaustion that have leeched into his bones over the last days of having returned to the program. He holsters his gun. “Sure. What would you like to talk about?”

They’re at the shooting range, a location Roger does not normally frequent. This will not occur to John until much later, at a point in time he’ll have memorized their conversation by heart, will have questioned every word, each and every one of his actions.

Right now he’s preoccupied with keeping his guard up, with not displaying how utterly weak he feels for everyone to see.

Nevertheless, Roger looks at him with concern, and John straightens up, squares his shoulders.

“Timothy told me that you … underwent the Trials.” Roger sounds weird, as if he did not know John was part of the Annex Program, and John tilts his head, confused.

“Yes? I did.”

There’s a tick in Roger’s jaw, a blaze of anger and betrayal in his eyes, but it’s gone before it manages to truly alarm John, and then he puts his hand on John’s shoulder, squeezes gently.

John leans into the touch before he can stop himself, draws all the comfort and relief it has to offer, almost closes his eyes.

“You did not tell me you joined the program,” Roger says.

His tone is gentle, careful, but still, John has to suppress a flinch. “I’m sorry. I guess … I guess I assumed Jedikiah would tell you.”

“He didn’t.” There’s no emotion in Roger’s voice, it’s all careful contemplation and restraint, and John looks quickly up at him, tries to see if he’s angered the man – if he’s said the wrong thing.

But Roger smiles at him, and squeezes his shoulder again. “Did my brother ask you to join, John?”

John stares, wide-eyed, then mutely shakes his head. “No,” he finally forces out, almost a whisper. “I volunteered.”

Roger’s eyes narrow. “He did not … push you to volunteer in any way? Did not even suggest it?”

John may not understand where this is coming from, but he’s well aware of what Roger means. “No! He did not push me to do anything! He wants to help me – help you! All of us!”

Roger sighs and takes his hand away, and John almost loses his footing due to the sudden lack of contact. Roger’s expression turns eerily earnest, almost too worried, careful in a way that looks more sad than cunning.

“Jedikiah’s not the man you want to believe he is, John. I understand that it’s difficult for you to see the truth, to see his … darker shades, but please trust me when I say that you need to be more wary around him.”

The words feel like a kick to the gut, and the nausea makes a triumphant return.

John can’t seem to suppress the broken edge to his voice. “Why … why do you say that? He’s your brother.”

“Having known him all my life helps me understand him, John. I see him for who he is, not for who I want him to be.”

There’s just enough condescension in those words to help John overcome his fear of displeasing the man. “I’m not a child. And I’ve known him for a while now, too.”

“Yes,” Roger admits immediately. “He practically raised you, didn’t he? Was like a father to you.” He pauses, and his brows draw together. “And now he’s sleeping with you.”

With all that’s been said, John still did not expect _that_. “You … you know?”

Roger’s expression softens, and his hand returns to John’s shoulder. “He kissed you in public, John. And Timothy told me about how he … _helped_ you during the Trials.”

John goes cold all over, but only for a few seconds. The ice in his veins is swiftly replaced by fire, by the memory of Jedikiah pressed up against him while he was shooting those rats – by the memory of Jedikiah fucking him into the mattress that night.

He doesn’t mean to broadcast those memories, but with Roger suddenly going rigid, and his face carefully blank, John fears that he might have done exactly that.

“It isn’t what you think,” he says, although he doesn’t really know what Roger thinks. It can’t be good, though.

“You’re not barely eighteen, then?” Roger responds, his tone a fraction too close to cruel. “He’s not old enough to be your father? He doesn’t have the capability and motive to manipulate you in any way that pleases him? You’re not likely to succumb to his will because you’re afraid to lose the only thing resembling a father you ever had?”

John steps away from him; as if distancing himself from Roger could shield him from his words; he steps out from under Roger’s hand, turns away from him, briefly closes his eyes, then stares at the floor. “It’s not like that.”

It _is_ like that.

Even if his relationship with Jedikiah entails much more than what Roger’s just … _described_ , John can’t deny the basic, underlying truth of it.

He can deny _something_ , though. “Jedikiah would never manipulate me.”

John’s still not looking at Roger, is still resolutely staring at the linoleum floor, but he can hear the pity in his voice, when he answers him. “God, John, I fear you don’t know my brother at all.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Is _that_ your idea of the correct treatment of a boy under your care? Is that how you think a relationship is supposed to work? Because let me tell you: when you had the audacity to suggest that you _fell for him_ I certainly did not envision you treating him like your _dog_!”

John freezes in his tracks, eyes wide. He’s only inches away from the door to Jedikiah’s office, hand already stretched out to the handle.

His encounter with Roger has left him in a state of utter confusion and insecurity, and the surprise of hearing his voice again so soon – thick with anger and reproach – almost achieves fading out what he’s actually saying.

Some of Rogers words hit once again closer to home than John would like.

 _Fell for him_ , though. Jedikiah really said he fell for him? That’s almost too elevating to contemplate. John lowers his hand, still frozen to the spot.

“May I enquire what caused this sudden outburst?” comes Jedikiah’s voice through the door, and John’s knees feel weak, unexpectedly. He came here to hear that voice, after all. _Needed_ to hear it – needed reassurance, guidance, firmness … all those things only Jedikiah can offer him.

“I talked to John,” Roger answers, still audibly furious.

“Of course you did. How is he? Feeling better, I hope?”

“How would I know if he’s feeling _better_? I’m not as intimate with him as you are!”

“And that’s for the best, I’m sure. Marla would hardly tolerate you stepping out on her. How is _she_ , by the way?”

“Are you going to address the fact that you’ve recently sexually _assaulted_ John or do you plan to go on in this repulsive manner?”

John almost shrinks away from the door, can almost feel the disgust coming off of Roger. He feels sick, a knot of nausea clotting up his intestines, and he has to breathe in through his nose, slowly, deliberately.

Jedikiah doesn’t say anything for a very long time, and when he does, he sounds unsure. “Did he _say_ that I assaulted him?”

John can barely repress a sob.

“No, of course not!” Roger grinds out. “He projected his memories at me – by accident, I assume! As if he would ever say or do anything to incriminate you!”

Jedikiah is silent once more, and John forces himself to open his eyes, to stand up straight and ignore the sick twists in his gut.

“For God’s sake, Jedikiah, say something!” Roger sounds frustrated, tired, but still unbelievably angry. John has never encountered anything but calm and patience from him, and this sudden change is disorienting.

It feels unreal, the whole conversation like something out of a story – one of the frightening, creepy ones, like a nightmare you can’t wake up from. John knows he should leave, that it’s not only impolite to listen, but probably just plain stupid as well.

He’s not supposed to hear this.

Then Jedikiah’s voice comes through the door once more. “Very well. When you experienced those memories … did they feel _uncomfortable_ to you? As if he was forced to do something he didn’t want?”

He sounds worried, utterly concerned, as if he actually believes that he did something _wrong_ , and that shakes John up more than anything Roger has said so far.

Jedikiah’s never wrong, never weak. He might be far too kind on occasion, but he never, ever shows weakness.

Apparently, Roger isn’t aware of that. “Of course they did – you holding him down like that, how else was he supposed to feel?!”

John almost throws open the door at the quiet, sad “Oh,” Jedikiah utters at that, almost yells that it isn’t true, that Roger is wrong, that John _loved_ what Jedikiah did to him that night.

“Jedikiah?” Roger says, sounding surprised, and he must reconsider after that, must reach into himself to take a closer look at what he’d condemned out of hand. “No, wait. I … it’s not true. I was wrong. He didn’t feel uncomfortable … I’d just assumed –“

“You’d just assumed I’d force him into something dark and twisted because that’s the kind of man I _am_.”

It’s Jedikiah who sounds angry now. John can feel his fury through the wall separating them, and he shivers. As long as that fury is not directed at him, he can almost enjoy it, can revel in the power underneath the rage.

“After you forced him into the Annex Program there’s not much I’d put past you to be quite honest”, Roger shoots back, his anger returning with a vengeance, the remorse falling by the wayside.

“I did not force him into anything,” Jedikiah objects. “He volunteered!”

Roger makes a derisive sound. “Oh, yes, of course he did! And you never talked to him about the program! Never mentioned what a marvellous thing it was! Never tried your spiel about how it would benefit him and all of his kind – how you just want to help _me_!”

John blinks and takes a step away from the door. He remembers those conversations. All of them. Because he remembers everything Jedikiah’s ever said to him.

On the other side of the door Roger and Jedikiah throw themselves into some sort of verbal arms-race.

“Of course I talked to him about the program! It’s important to me! You being able to defend yourself is important to me!”

“I _am_ able to defend myself without shooting a gun at some-ones head!”

“And that’s where I beg to differ. The one being able to kill will always have the upper hand in a fight.”

“Not everything in life is about fighting and winning!”

“Sometimes life doesn’t give you a _choice_!”

“You mean like you didn’t give John a choice? Like you just dumped your ambitions and ideas on him, never for once stopping to think that he might be much happier finally being allowed some normalcy?”

“You know as well as I do that he’ll never be allowed normalcy – that he won’t ever have that kind of life!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to go out of your way to make it even _more_ difficult!”

“Believe it or not, I am trying to help him!”

“Your idea of help is pumping him full of untested drugs?! Do you want him to end up in the Citadel? To become the monster to Kennex’ Dr Frankenstein? Do you really believe you’ll be able to protect him from that?”

The sudden silence tears at John, upsets his balance. He yearns for Jedikiah to say something in return, say anything – explain himself and put the disquiet and unease in John to rest.

When he finally does speak, it’s almost too quiet for John to hear. “He’ll never set foot into the Citadel. He’s doing fine. The program is almost finished. He’ll be fine. He’ll be perfect.”

“He’s perfect _now_.”

“As inclined as I am to agree, that mugger in the park would have killed him if I hadn’t been with him.”

“You don’t _know_ that.”

“And I’m glad we didn’t have to find out the hard way! Can’t you at least for once admit that sometimes there’s just _no other way_ … Sometimes it’s kill or be killed, and frankly, for John, I will _always_ choose the former.”

John’s heart misses a beat.

Roger sighs. “Not only for John, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, well, I might do it for you, too. If you ask nicely.”

“This is no joking matter.”

“I am aware. It is, however, as it is. There’s nothing you can do about it. The Founder is rather invested in the program by now, I fear.”

When the silence stretches out this time, it’s tangible. John holds his breath, not knowing why. He doesn’t know who this Founder is. The way Jedikiah’s said his name nevertheless instilled him with the kind of fear children reserve for the monster under the bed – a nameless dread your parents refuse to admit is real.

“We have to do something, Jed.” Roger sounds wary, utterly exhausted. “And we have to do it soon. Things can’t go on like this. This organization has gone completely out of control. As much as the Founder claims to be a protector of the human race –“

“I know,” Jedikiah interrupts him, his voice soft. “We’ve already sacrificed so much.”

“I fear we’ll have to sacrifice a lot more yet.” John’s never heard Roger sound so stern. “I’ve hatched something of a plan. I’ll tell you soon what you’ll have to do. Will you be ready?”

“I am always ready, Roger. You know that.”

“Even if it involves hurting the people under your care? Hurting John?”

Jedikiah sighs. “… If it can’t be helped.”

Whatever is said next, John doesn’t hear. The door at the opposite end of the hall is opened, and a senior agent steps through, invested in a file he’s carrying with him.

John doesn’t wait for him to look up and spot him, doesn’t want to be seen eavesdropping, so he hastens in the opposite direction – retreats back to where he came from.

He makes it down the hall and through the double doors towards the elevators without being noticed. His heartbeat’s pounding in his ears, and he feels sick again, the sudden rush elevating his blood pressure and with it the all symptoms he’s been fighting for the last few days – ever since the last drug trial.

During the elevator ride back down to the shooting range he almost forgets them, though. They fade into the background, a constant presence, overshadowed by what he’s just heard.

Roger’s part of the conversation is far too clear in his memory – the accusations, his disgust – the fact that Jedikiah never succeeded in convincing him of his point of view.

Whenever Jedikiah talked to him about the Annex program, John operated under the impression that Jedikiah had Roger’s blessing, his support, that Jedikiah and Roger were working on it _together_.

They aren’t, apparently. Not on that, anyway.

In fact, it seems like Jedikiah is as far as humanly possible from having Roger’s blessing or his support. Roger doesn’t appear to be even remotely in favour of the Annex Program.

And John doesn’t understand _why_.

Just because you’re able to kill doesn’t mean you have to. But _if_ you have to, if you or someone you love is in danger, wouldn’t you do anything to save them? Wouldn’t you want to be able to do everything you could?

Wouldn’t you at least _try_?

In John’s mind, being able to help will always be worth the pain and the nausea. The ability to protect those who can’t protect themselves will always be worth every form of torment the newest drug cocktail could inflict on him.

Maybe he should tell Roger that. Make him understand that it isn’t Jedikiah’s fault that he joined the program … that there isn’t a fault to begin with; that John just wants to help, even if Roger doesn’t, that he’s not only doing it for Jedikiah, but for his people … that Jedikiah didn’t talk him into doing it, never had the intention to do so.

The problem is that Roger wouldn’t believe him. That much is clear. John doesn’t understand why or how, but Roger seems to think Jedikiah capable of _anything_.

And John is afraid to ask him for his reasons.

What he’s even more afraid of is Jedikiah’s apparent readiness to do whatever Roger might ask of him – even if he can relate to that willingness more than he’d care to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I've started a side project - something I just shouldn't be allowed - an it's eaten my life.
> 
> If you want to visit me on [tumblr](http://uenaina.tumblr.com/) to discuss something or just talk feel free!


End file.
